


One Minute Past Way Too Long

by Regret Me (MythicObsessions)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Over use of the word "med(s)", Slight trigger warning, Soul Bond, Soulmates AU, slight sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5146133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicObsessions/pseuds/Regret%20Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Through better or worse." Patrick said softly. "I promised, Pete."<br/>“Yeah I know.” Pete said. “I never doubted you. Not really.”</p><p>(Or the one where Pete runs out of his meds in the middle of the tour)<br/>Soulmates AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Minute Past Way Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread.  
> Errors on me.  
> Comment if you see something horrible.

Pete hooked his chin on Patrick's shoulder as the smaller man continued to beat out a rhythm on the body of a borrowed acoustic guitar.It was off-white, a creamy tan color. Stickers were messily pressed into the body of it. “Slightly Stoopid,” “FoB!” or little clip art hearts bubbling up from a silhouette of a girl. To be honest, it was a cute guitar. A collection of stickers, signatures and sharpie art scrawled into the once dull off-white color. A history.    
Patrick cradled it like he would a child. It actually reminded Pete of how he had handled Bronx the first time Pete handed him over. 

Pete listened to the steady almost song Patrick played out, his hand shifting from beating palm flat to the tips of his fingers or the pad of his thumb. Something that could be the undertone of a jazz song, or something pure Patrick.  
Pete listened to the way Patrick hummed under his breath. It was soothing.  
Just listening, it still would be soothing for Pete. But he also could feel it through the bond between them. Shaky with emotion and lyrics no one was going to sing. A love song maybe. If you could take it like that. It felt more bitter, calmly enraged, silently murderous. But also upbeat and something like a slow dance in moonlight right under a blooming cherry tree. Something sweet and real but bitter and annoyed.  
Pete let his forehead rest against Patrick's neck as he listened, his chest almost pressed against Patrick's back. His legs ached under him from being folded too long, and his hands were starting to cramp in the tight hold he barely realized he had on Patrick's shirt. It was childish maybe. Vulnerable. Pete could feel the alertness that Patrick always had when Pete was like this, half protective, half just concern.  
Patrick let Pete cling for hours, probably would have let him cling for days if it took that long.  
There weren't anymore pills for Pete to take, he was running dry, emotionally and physically. He was resigned in anything that wasn't Patrick and his voice.

Suddenly afraid of silly things. The wind beating against a hotel's wall in the middle of god only knows where. The shift and flutter of curtains when someone left the window open in the bus on an off day. Eye contact during a set.  
Silly, strange and random things that would make Pete want to crawl out of his skin or drop to his knees in front of Patrick and just obey.  
Losing control was one sure way of getting Pete out of his mind. Give him an order and it was equal to a pill. Tie him up and it was oddly equal to giving him a way out. Patrick didn't like having Pete off his meds, he could feel the buzz and white-noise of agony and self-hate.  
_I did wrong, Patrick._  
_No, no you're perfect, stop thinking like that._  
But really, Patrick could find all kinds of ways to blame himself for it. Pete relies on him and he failed. Though, not really. Pete wasn't _dead_ or anything. He was just upset. Unable to pick reality out of nightmares and dreams.

It'd be late at night when Patrick would find Pete curled up in his bed, breathing too fast, eyes closed too tight for it to be natural. He was scared, and Patrick couldn't really help. He could curl up next to Pete, whisper useless, meaningless things until he calmed down and opened his eyes.  
Pete would sleep if Patrick sang softly for hours and hours, until his throat hurt more and more but he never did stop, just letting Pete catch up with his rest. His body needed it and so did his mind.  
It'd be too early when his eyes fluttered open again, looking into Patrick's until he moved his face to hide in the crook of Patrick's neck.  
Patrick listened to the bond when it wasn't “socially acceptable” for Pete to hang around Patrick and breathe down his neck.  
He'd listen to the buzz and sometimes openly cringe when he heard a high screeching note. A dirty thought would pass by sometimes.  
_Use me._  
_Not yet._  
_Please? Please, Patrick, I need you._  
_Not yet. Not here._  
Sometimes just self destructive words.  
_I don't deserve you._  
_I don't care. I love you._  
_I'm a screw up. A failure._  
_No you're not._  
Patrick let him sometimes break himself down. Let him go a day without reassurance until late.  
He wouldn't speak, just grab Pete by the neck, shoulder, hair. Push him down and just... not give him a way out. Not yet.  
_Blind me, I can't stand the look of you, only the feel of you._  
He'd listen to the bond and push Pete until he was thoughtless. No hatred, no pity. Nothing. Just lust and love and trust.  
_Gag me, don't let me talk, don't let me get out of this. I need this too much to risk it._  
He'd be rough or gentle, sweet or bitter. It would depend on Pete. All on him. Patrick really had no control over what he did because he followed Pete's thoughts. Really, no one had control. But that was kind of the point.  
_Tie me up, so I can't move away. I promise I'll be good for you if you promise to make it hurt._

Finally.  
Weeks past and gone, Pete and Patrick pushed open the door to their apartment, b-lined straight to the bathroom. Patrick bent down to grab out the spare meds, shaking the right dose into his palm before turning back to Pete. 

He was pale. Shaking just a little. Patrick hated it when he was like his.  
“Pete.” He whispered, reaching out and grabbing Pete's wrist softly. “C'mon.”  
Pete nodded and rubbed his cheek on Patrick's chest.  
“Here.” He dropped the few pills into Pete's before curling his hand closed. “I'll get you some water.”  
He pushed away from Pete to go into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, the cold there, a promise. He returned to Pete with a cold water bottle, already opening it when he saw Pete sitting cross-legged on the ground, smiling shyly.  
Patrick smiled back and crouched down better Pete, offering the bottle.  
“Through better or worse.” Patrick said softly. “I promised, Pete.”  
Pete smiled wider at that and downed the pills, chasing them with a gulp of water.  
“yeah I know.” Pete said. “I never doubted you. Not really.”  
Patrick snorted and leaned down, pressing his lips to Pete's softly.  
“Glad to hear it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment opinions/thoughts. They help me try and make you proud.


End file.
